


A Little Grease Goes A Long Way

by Katyakora



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Competent Mick, Gen, Mechanic Mick, kidstorm if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:27:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9665462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katyakora/pseuds/Katyakora
Summary: For the prompt: Mick runs a somewhat illegal auto repair place between heists. He teaches kids who need a trade (Jax) and or supplies for racing (Wally). Said kids will protect him with their life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the Mick-for-all prompt fills.  
> I know very little about how auto-shops are run, so I apologise for any and all inaccuracies.

Mick hadn’t intended to turn his hobby into a business. Technically, it had been Leonard’s idea. That is, if you considered Leonard complaining about Mick leaving parts lying around and getting grease everywhere to the point Mick turned one of his safehouses into his own personal workshop just to shut him up, to be Leonard’s idea. The first one was just a favour owed to one of his old contacts. Mick didn’t expect the guy to come back offering to pay. Nor did he expect the guy to tell anyone who asked who exactly had done the seamless mods to his car. Before Mick knew it, he was the go-to mechanic for Keystone’s illegal racing community. 

 

Mick wasn’t interested in allowing his relaxing hobby to turn into real work, so as soon as he started getting more requests than he could comfortably handle, he called up his old cellmate from his first stint, who was happy to take on some of Mick’s orders. Soon, the main workshop was bustling, part illegal mechanic’s, part chopshop, but Mick didn’t care what they did out front as long as no one bothered him in the smaller workshop out back. 

 

He kept all the most interesting projects for himself. Working with his hands was a simple pleasure, one of the few areas where Mick was confident in his knowledge and expertise, and it was one of the few things that kept the itch to burn at bay. His mind was kept occupied by the intricate workings of the engine, and the more interesting or tricky the project, the longer he could keep his mind occupied. It was almost meditative, in a way. Which was probably why it took him so long to notice that he had an audience late one autumn afternoon.

 

The back door of his workshop often got left open for ventilation. Today, when Mick glanced around looking for a spanner, he caught a pair of eyes peeking around the door frame. He glared, and the eyes promptly vanished. Mick went back to his work and thought nothing of it, until he caught sight of the same pair of eyes peeking around the door again half an hour later.

 

No one had ever accused Mick of being good with kids. They were loud, annoying, and messy and Mick had no use for them. But the kid loitering in his doorway was utterly silent and didn’t look old enough to think to question the legality of Mick’s operation, so he chose to ignore his audience. He figured the kid was just bored and figured watching Mick was something to do while he waited for dinner time. But time passed, the sun began to sink and the kid was still there, doing a worse and worse job of hiding, until he was actually leaning around the doorway. Now Mick started to think that maybe the kid belonged to one of the guys working out front, but then he realised that old Buck only had Louisa and Riz working today, and there was no way this kid belonged to any of them. As the sun set, Mick sighed, wiped his hands on a rag and turned around.

 

“Go home, Kid,” he ordered, adding a glare for good measure. All that got him was a return to the kid’s piss poor attempt at hiding. After twenty minutes, Mick turned around again with a growl. “Don’t you gotta be home for dinner or somethin’?”

 

The kid peeked around the corner and solemnly shook his head. Mick heard the sound of a backpack zipper and then the kid’s hand materialised holding some hearty looking sandwiches, as if to say he had his dinner with him. Mick frowned. “Won’t your folks be wondering where you are?”

 

“Ricky don’t care where I go, ‘long as I’m back ‘fore Mama,” the kid finally spoke, sounding a little sullen. Mick got the distinct impression that, whoever ‘Ricky’ was, the kid didn’t like him. The kid probably went out of his way not to go home until his mother was there, and Mick found he really didn’t like the implications of that.

 

“Why the hell are you gawking in my doorway?” he asked. The kid shuffled his feet.

 

“It’s interesting,” he murmured. Now Mick understood.

 

“You like cars, huh?”

 

The kid nodded.

 

“You’re gonna watch no matter what I do, ain’t ya?”

 

“I’m sorry, Mister,” the kid shrunk in on himself, “I’ll go if I’m bothering you.”

 

The little boy looked utterly dejected and a part of Mick really didn’t like to see that. He decided he must be going crazy, because instead of telling the kid to scram, that uncomfortable part of him had him kicking a crate out of the corner over to the front of the car.

 

“Can’t see crap from all the way over there. Stand on this.”

 

Grinning with delight, the kid dumped his backpack by the door and raced over, eagerly taking in the sight of the engine from his new perch.

 

“Just watch and don’t get in the way,” Mick grumbled, glad that uncomfortable feeling was gone. The kid nodded solemnly, even tucking his hands behind his back to keep them out of the way. Mick intended to go back to ignoring the kid, but somehow the burning curiousity in his eyes spurred Mick into explaining everything he was doing anyway. He didn’t even notice when the kid started asking hesitant questions, he just answered and kept doing what he was doing. He was only jarred out of his focus when he turned to grab some wirecutters and found them being handed to him. Mick found himself forcibly reminded of being just a kid himself, watching his father fixing the tractor. For the longest time, Mick had only ever been allowed to help his father when he was fixing stuff by passing tools, but one day his father had actually let Mick start helping. Just unscrewing a few bolts, and then removing a few tubes, but it had been the first time that his father had ever really trusted Mick to do something right. Working on engines together had really been the only happy memories Mick had of his father, the rest being of stern discipline or being straight up ignored in favour of his siblings. 

 

And now there was a kid standing next to him, up on a crate just like Mick had used before his growth spurt, pushed by his curiousity to risk the wrath of a big, scary man just to learn something he found interesting. The kid looked nothing like him, but Mick felt like he might as well be looking at himself. He was getting uncomfortable again, but this time it seemed to be fore a different reason.

 

“Here,” he grunted, holding out a pair of wires in lieu of taking the cutters. “Strip the ends off these.”

 

The kid’s eyes went wide, but he took the wires and examined the wirecutters carefully. Under Mick’s watchful eye, the kid looking up often to make sure he was doing it right, he successfully stripped the casing from the ends of each wire.

 

“Good,” Mick took one of the offered wires, “but a little more off that one.” The kid happily complied with more confidence and offered it up. “Thanks,” Mick accepted, carefully attaching it. “Hey kid, what’s your name.”

 

“Jefferson Jackson. What’s yours?”

 

“Mick,” he responded, making a face at the poor kid’s name. He doubted he’d be able to remember it, but it sounded like the little guy needed a decent nickname anyway. He went on to explain why the wires had needed to be stripped, oddly pleased when he could actually see on the kid’s face when the concepts Mick explained made sense to him. Mick had never really ever bothered to teach anyone anything, but he was beginning to see why someone might enjoy it. 

 

“Jax, pass me a flathead.”

 

The kid looked surprised at the nickname, but recovered quickly. “Uh, oh, this one?”

 

“That’s a flathead, but look at where it’s gotta go. That one’s to short and fat to reach, need one that’s long and thin.”

 

“This one?”

 

“Perfect. Now hold these back for me.”

 

And so it went, the unlikely teacher and student working away until the boy’s grease-smeared grin faded when he looked up at the old clock high on the wall.

 

“Mama will be home soon,” he said reluctantly. Mick looked at the darkness outside with a frown.

 

“You okay getting home in the dark?”

  
  


Little Jax nodded, hopping down off his crate. “My house is just down the street. I’ll be okay.”

 

Mick pursed his lips, still not liking the idea, but the kid seemed sure so he let it go.

 

“Uh, Mick?” Jax had grabbed his backpack but now he stood in the doorway, nervously shuffling his feet. “Would it be okay...can I please come back tomorrow?”

 

“I won’t be here tomorrow.” He and Leonard would be robbing a diamond shipment tomorrow. Seeing the kid’s hope die in his eyes felt like a physical pain in Mick’s chest. Damn, he really must be going crazy. “Thursday.”

 

“Thank you! I’ll be there, you won’t regret this!” With a smile bright enough to power a city, Jax disappeared out the door. Mick watched him go with a fond shake of his head. Despite the fact that he often worked late into the night, Mick found himself packing up. He might as well finish up on Thursday, it wouldn’t do to just teach the kid how to do half a job.

 

Jax arrived on Thursday practically buzzing with excitement. The kid came back every day Mick said he’d be in the workshop, rain or shine. His enthusiasm never wavered, even on days when Mick was grumpy or frustrated over a setback. If anything, it was Jax’s unwavering optimism and willingness to learn that kept Mick working at the problems, when in the past he’d just go and burn something to deal with his frustrations. He actually seemed to get more done with Jax around, despite often slowing down to explain or demonstrate. Before Mick knew it, Jax had been his apprentice for well over a year and a half.

 

Inevitably though, there came a day when Mick couldn’t go back to the workshop for a while. The job he’d pulled with Snart had had a few hiccups, and they had to lay low for a while. Mick wasn’t worried, it would only be for a few months, and he’d told old Buck what to do if the kid showed up at the workshop while Mick was away. It was merely unfortunate that, by the time Mick could safely return to Keystone, old Buck had to inform him that Jax’s mother had gotten a better job so they’d moved to Central. Mick was unexpectedly disappointed to hear that, he’d been surprised by how much he’d enjoyed teaching the kid. He’d become such a fixture in the workshop that Mick hadn’t ever considered he might not always be there. Some of his disappointment must have shown on his face, because old Buck had peered at him and said;

 

“You can take over teaching the other two, if you want. I don’t really have time for them to be following me around anyway.”

 

“The other two?” Mick asked, confused.

 

“Yeah. Dean’s nephew saw me showing little Jax the ropes and wanted in. Him and his buddy been coming every day to learn with Jax, though they’re a bit older. Since you’re back, you wanna take over?”

 

Mick thought about the many afternoons he’d spent in the workshop, staying to teach rather than going out and doing the stupid shit he did when he got bored that pissed Snart off and tended to get Mick arrested. He thought about how much he’d genuinely enjoyed teaching and how having a student had helped him focus so much easier. He nodded, and found himself with a couple of teenage apprentices.

 

After a week, the nephew’s friend stopped coming, too terrified of Mick’s moods, but it didn’t matter because that kid’s cousin and her friend had also started coming, and now Mick had three apprentices. Every time a kid dropped out, either because they couldn’t handle Mick or because they were kicked out for cutting corners or compromising safety, two more took their place. He had to start turning them away once he had ten, since he didn’t think he could handle more. They were all crooks’ kids, looking to learn a slightly more reputable trade or to get into the city’s rampant illegal racing business. Once he deemed a student ready, he sent them to help out in the main workshop, getting the experience of actually working in a garage and freeing up space for more students to join. Entirely by accident, his little illegal auto-repair/chopshop became the best automotive training program in the city.

 

Dozens of teenagers must have gone through Mick’s workshop over the years. The ones that didn’t end up working for him could get a job at just about any workshop in town just by saying they’d been trained by Mick. A few of them just wanted to learn so they could build a decent car to race, and everyone knew the smart money was on the cars that came out of Mick’s workshop. 

 

Memorably, Mick had tapped one of them at the last minute to be a getaway driver for him and Snart when Lisa came down with the flu just before a heist. Despite being just fifteen, Wally’s skill behind the wheel was already impressive, and Mick knew he needed the money for his mother’s medication. Besides, had everything gone according to plan, Wally would have done little more than drive through the city late at night at an inconspicuous speed. Of course, things had not quite gone according to plan, and Wally had been required to do some hair-raising driving to lose the tail of private security they’d managed to attract. By the time they parked up, finally in the clear, Wally looked like he had just had an out of body experience and Mick hadn’t been sure if he was about to collapse or whoop with exhilaration. It turned out to be the latter, and Mick wasn’t at all surprised to see that some of the bonus Leonard had given the boy for his exceptional performance had gone towards his car.

 

“You’ll be one helluva racer one day, kid,” Mick had told him with a proud smirk. “All anyone’ll ever see is your tail lights.”

 

After the job that left Mick scarred and his partnership with Leonard once again in tatters, the workshop was Mick’s refuge. When his wounds meant he couldn’t do something, it didn’t matter because his students were there, ready and willing to do it for him. Even the ones who’d moved on to other shops and jobs would drop by just to see how he was doing, asking if there was anything they could do for him. Seeing them all, he was honestly astonished to see just how many of them there were. Yet he knew them all, greeted them all with their personalised nickname without having to think. It had been humbling to see how many lives he’d affected, how many people actually cared about him. He’d gotten roaringly drunk to deal with all the feelings that realisation had given him, but the pride, in what they’d accomplished because of him, that he held onto tightly, a rare good thing that no one could ever take away from him. 

 

And it was all because of one curious kid. Mick didn’t know why he was thinking about Jax now after all these years, while up on a rooftop being given a sales pitch by the weird englishman who’d roofied them. Maybe it was because of the teenager standing next to the old man who kept glancing at Mick thoughtfully. He’d be about the same age as Jax would be now, he even looked a bit like the kid.

 

Having dismissed the brit’s offer, Mick and Snart were just about to head down off the roof when the teenager called out.

 

“Hey, Mick!”

 

Mick paused and turned, surprised the young man knew his name. He jogged over to them, a smile on his face that was rather familiar.

 

“Hey man, I don’t know if you remember me, but-”

 

“Jax,” Mick interrupted without thinking, finally putting together why the kid seemed so familiar. At being recognised, the kid’s face split into a delighted grin.

 

“You remember me?”

 

“I remember all the kids I taught,” Mick deflected with a shrug, but Jax’s happiness didn’t dim in the slightest.

 

“I always hoped I’d run into you again some day,” Jax cheerfully confessed, oblivious to the curious looks they were getting from everyone else on the rooftop. “If it weren’t for everything you taught me, I don’t know what I would have done after I tore my ACL. I know it was probably nothin’ to you, but what you taught me gave me a second chance. I just wanted to say thank you.”

 

“No problem, kid,” Mick grunted, turning and stomping down the stairs as though he could flee both the sudden swell of emotion churning in his gut as well as his old student. Snart watched him sidelong with a knowing smirk, the bastard. 

 

_ Some time later… _

 

“Don’t give up, Cisco!” Ray implored, “It’s not just Barry and Wally’s lives at stake; if they die now, the whole timeline unravels! You said you had an idea that could save them, so let us help!”

 

Cisco, pacing around the cortex, groaned in frustration. “Yeah it could but none of us are speedsters! Even with all the Legends helping, there’s no way we’d finish it in time!” He ran his hands through his hair. “Not unless you happen to have a few dozen mechanical engineers in your back pocket,” he added flippantly.

 

“How many d’you need?”

 

Every head in the room swung to look at Mick, who just looked at Cisco expectantly.

 

“You...know that many mechanical engineers?” Cisco sounded skeptical, but there was also a ray of hope in his eyes.

 

“Most of ‘em call themselves mechanics, but they know their shit and they’ll follow instructions,” Mick said with a shrug. 

 

“You do know Mick used to run a garage, right?” Jax piped up.

 

“Used to? It’s still runnin’, Kid,” Mick pointed out. He raised his eyebrows at Cisco. “So? Am I callin’ them or not?”

 

“Yeah.” Cisco nodded slowly, determination squaring his shoulders. “As many as you can get, fast as you can get ‘em here. We’ve got-” He looked to Caitlin.

 

“Three hours,” she supplied.

 

“-three hours to save Barry and Wally.”

 

“And the timeline,” Sara added.

 

“Yeah. No pressure.”

 

Within ten minutes of Mick making his first call, people started arriving. The heroes watched, jaws hanging open, as car after van after motorcycle pulled into the STAR labs parking garage, some packed with people, all spilling out and heading straight over to Mick. Men and women of all colours and creeds had dropped everything at Mick’s call to lend a hand. The pyro greeted all of them by a nickname before assigning them a task best suited to each one’s skills. He stood at Cisco’s side, bellowing out instructions to various groups as fast as Cisco could explain what needed doing. No one argued, they all just worked away like a hive of caffeinated bees, dutifully  obeying their queen to the letter. Every now and then Mick added his hands to the task where needed, occasionally berating some of his old apprentices for picking up bad habits. 

 

Under Cisco’s astonished eyes, with Mick’s gruff guidance, a machine that should have taken at least a day to build took shape in a little over two hours. As the last pieces were welded together, a cheer went up through the assembled engineers, only to fall into a hush as Caitlin and HR wheeled out the blurred forms of the Flash and Kid Flash. They had fallen victim to a metahuman whose stasis powers somehow forced them to remain stuck in a hyperaccelerated state that was forcing their metabolisms to consume their bodies to feed their cells’ speed. Even blurred, it was clear that both men were unnaturally thin, their time quickly running out. Everyone watched with bated breath as the speedsters were placed inside the contraption that was apparently meant to force them out of stasis by shoving them into the Speed Force, whatever that was. At a barked command from Mick, everyone stood clear just in case this went horribly wrong. 

 

Cisco took a deep breath and activated the machine. The noise was deafening. Blue light flashed and then everything went silent. After a beat, Mick wrestled the heavy door open with the help of Nate, and Caitlin and Cisco rushed in to see the results. Inside, Barry and Wally were unconscious, emaciated and mercifully still.

 

“It worked!” Cisco called out in exuberance as Caitlin confirmed they were still breathing and directed Nate and HR to wheel the gurneys back to the medical bay.

 

Another cheer rose up through the crowd, and Mick couldn’t keep the grin off his face. He’d always felt a sense of pride in the things he created, but this was on a whole other level. This was only possible because of all the people he’d taught over the years. He’d changed their lives, affected them for the better, and this moment was the most powerful, tangible representation of that. He was so proud, not of himself, but of them, and all that they’d accomplished. It felt better than he would ever have imagined.

 

After a little while celebrating with them, drinking beer that had materialised from out of someone’s car, Jax tapped Mick on the shoulder and jerked his head towards the door, clearly asking Mick to follow. Apparently, Barry and Wally were awake. When they reached the medbay where all the heroes had gathered, the two speedsters were sitting up and awake, their cowls removed and surrounded by Big Belly Burger wrappers. They were already looking much healthy, although Caitlin was still hovering around the monitors. Mick paused in the doorway, then began to chuckle as he entered fully.

 

“Damn, Taillights, you’re a speedster now? Shoulda known cars’d never be fast enough for you.”

 

“Mick!” Wally greeted him happily around what must have been his hundredth burger.

 

“Wait, you know Mick?” Barry asked, barely intelligible around his own mouthful.

 

“How exactly do you know a notorious criminal, son?” Joe West asked sternly.

 

“Same as all those people outside. He taught me to build cars.”

 

“I thought you said you learned that helping out at a mechanic’s after school?” Iris asked.

 

“Yeah, Mick’s. All the racer’s take their cars to Mick’s. Well, they do if they wanna win.”

 

Every eye turned to Mick, who just shrugged. “My guys do good work. Which is why Red and Taillights are still breathing.”

 

“Thank you, Mick,” Barry said solemnly, ignoring his food in favour of expressing his gratitude. “Cisco said we’d be dead by now if it wasn’t for you. You’re a real hero.” Next to Barry, Wally nodded his agreement gravely, as did all the Legends, who were looking at him like he was a whole different person. The sheer sincerity of Barry’s expression was making Mick distinctly uncomfortable.

 

“Don’t mention it,” he growled in what was a legitimate warning. The last thing he needed was the Flash going around destroying his reputation. Luckily for him, Iris chose that moment to change the subject, possibly having noticed Mick’s discomfort.

 

“Hold on, did you give Wally that nickname?” she asked, narrowing her eyes shrewdly when Mick nodded. She turned to her brother, who was suddenly very intent on his hundred and twelfth burger. “Didn’t you say you’d been fixing cars since you were thirteen?”

 

“Wait a minute, you have  _ not _ been driving since you were that young?” Joe asked incredulously. Wally sent Mick a pleading look, which he largely ignored.

 

“‘Course he has. Can’t teach ‘em how to fix a machine if they don’t know how to use it.”

 

“You taught my son to drive when his was only thirteen?!” Joe yelled.

 

“No.” Mick gave Joe half a second to deflate in relief before he continued. “I had Louisa give the driving lessons. She was a street racing champ before she lost an eye.” 

 

“What?!”

 

“How come I never got driving lessons?” Jax interjected, allowing Mick to ignore Joe’s fuming.

 

“You were eight. What was I gonna teach you in, a go-kart?”

 

“You started when you were eight?” Wally asked, surprised. “Damn, you must be good by now.”

 

“I only got two years of lessons before Mom and I moved,” Jax explained modestly.

 

“Says the Waverider’s chief mechanic,” Ray added before Mick could. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

 

Wally gaped at Jax in awe, making him blush. 

 

“It’s not that different from a car, once you know how everything works,” he downplayed, shuffling his feet. “Mick could probably do most of what I do. He used to do all the repairs on his old time ship.”

 

Mick scowled. “Quit telling them I can do stuff, Kid. They’ll get  _ expectations _ .” He shuddered at the last word.

 

“Oh, it’s too late now, Mick,” Sara informed him gleefully. “The truth is out.”

 

“Ugh. I’m going back to drinking.”

 

“With all your adoring students who dropped everything just to help you with barely an explanation. Because you’re a competent mechanic and a good teacher. Wow, that is the weirdest thing I have ever taunted anyone with,” said a rather bemused Nate.

 

“Shut up, Pretty,” Mick grumbled, stomping off to hide the way he couldn’t quite keep the corners of his mouth from curling into a pleased smile. 

**Author's Note:**

> Just so you know, Ricky is just the bored teenager whose supposed to watch Jax in the afternoons but spends all his time smoking weed.


End file.
